Change of Tides
by HogwartsDreamer113
Summary: Finnick Odair. Tribute. Mentor. Lover. Friend. Heartthrob of the Capitol. This is the man readers fell in love with in Catching Fire and whose death they bawled over in Mockingjay. This is the story of a fourteen year old boy's journey to become that man, starting with the sixty-fifth Annual Hunger Games.
1. Chapter 1: Dare

**Author's note: Hi there! Nice to meet you! Or, if I already know you, nice to see you!**

**Welcome to the story of Finnick Odair, from his games to right after the reaping of the 70****th**** Hunger Games. This story covers his growth from an innocent boy to the slightly broken yet lovable victor we know. I hope you enjoy the story. :)**

**Reviews mean the world to me, and each one warms my heart and makes my day. :) **

_**Change of Tides**_

**Chapter 1: Dare**

"_Young people don't always do what they're told, but if they can pull it off and do something wonderful, sometimes they can escape punishment" - Rick Riordan, author_

To someone who isn't from District Four, throwing a trident at a fish in the water and one at a target are the same act, but as any fisherman knows, they are two completely different skills. For targets, the thrower has to just throw straight with enough power and good aim to hit their mark while a fisherman has to know the right angle to throw the trident in order to hit the fish because of the reflection on the water. Some people can hit a fish but not a target, and others vice versa. Luckily for me, I can do both.

"I'll get you next time, Odair!" my best friend, Sitka Holland, says after losing yet another throwing challenge to me.

"Yeah, right," I laugh, "and someday I'll beat you in maces and hand-to-hand!" Sitka is _huge_ for being just fourteen, and can kick my ass in about a minute, although I'd never admit that to him. Then again, he already knows.

Sitka grins. "Sure. When dolphins rebel and start eating sharks!" he says with a laugh, and we head to our usual lunch table where a group of eighteen-year-olds are just sitting down, laughing and talking amongst themselves.

"What a geek!" one is saying. "What is he doing here?"

"I know," Bronson, the guy who is rumored to be volunteering this year, scoffs. "If he is reaped tomorrow, I won't even volunteer for him."

The others add words of agreement. "And waste all your training?" Bronson's girlfriend asks.

He nods. "In a heartbeat."

I glance in the direction the group came from and am not surprised to find Nyle Degardi sitting alone. A year older than me, Nyle isn't particularly talented at anything here. To make matters worse, he has a very obvious stutter, causing him to be ridiculed by most of the training center, other than the younger kids. He's a nice guy though, and I'm probably the only friend he has, other than his older sister. He certainly doesn't deserve to die though.

"I would volunteer for him," I say. Bronson laughs. The older trainees never take anyone under sixteen or seventeen years old seriously, which annoys Sitka to no end. I honestly couldn't care less what they think.

"Oh yeah?" Bronson smirks. "Why?"

_Because there's no reason for him to die, and I have a better chance than he does_, I think, but instead I shrug and say, "It's the Hunger Games. If you guys aren't going to volunteer, why shouldn't I?" This of course, is an act. While I do have a better chance than Nyle, I'm not so arrogant as to believe that I'd have no problem winning the Games at fourteen. Any fourteen-year-old to volunteer against seventeen and eighteen-year-olds better have a good reason other than "I want to win and be famous". There's so much that can be learned in four years.

Bronson smirks. "Alright. If Degardi is reaped, we'll let you go in. But otherwise it's going to be me in that arena. Deal?"

"Deal," I say. He holds out his hand, and I shake it. It's a dangerous deal to make, one that puts my life in jeopardy. Chances are though, Nyle won't be reaped, and Bronson will volunteer. And if he is, I know these guys. They've been training for the games for most of their lives. This is not something they would so readily give up.

* * *

"Finnick, where have you been?" my mom asks as I rush into the house the following afternoon with bare feet and wearing nothing but a pair of shorts. "You're not even dressed, and the reaping is in an hour!"

At the other end of the table, my dad laughs. "Come on Meredith, don't you know the look of a young fisherman when you see one?"

Mom smiles slightly despite herself. "Alright," she says, "just hurry."

A half an hour later, my parents and I leave for the reaping. As we walk, we are greeted by several "Good afternoon, Mr. Odair's" and "How's it going, Aberdeen?"'s My dad is the most recognizable man in the district, other than the mayor himself. Dad is in charge of the fish distribution, and decides how much fish goes where. Within reason, of course, since the Capitol has set strict restrictions, maximums, and minimums he must follow. Many people fish for him, and then Dad distributes the fish as equally as he can. Many people in Four either work for him, are friends with him, or both. Because of his high-up position, my family is one of the wealthiest in the district. My whole life, my parents have taught me to treat others equal or better than myself, and I try not to take anything for granted.

When we arrive at the sign-in station outside the Justice Building, my dad stops to talk to one of his fishermen, Mr. Cresta. Meanwhile, I get in line behind Mr. Cresta's daughter, Annie.

"Hey Annie," I say cheerfully.

Annie jumps. She turns to face me, looking very flustered. "Hi Finnink. Sorry, you kind of scared me."

I laugh slightly. "It's okay," I reply. I may not know her well, since she's two years younger than me, and we've only spoken a few times, but I do know she's a nice girl, quiet, but still friendly. Although I'd never admit it, she's really kind of pretty, with wavy, dark brown hair and dark green eyes. She's prettier than most of the girls my age that I've flirted with or kissed, a number that isn't as much as Sitka says.

Annie is smiling, but I can still tell she is nervous. "Hey, don't worry," I say. "This is your first reaping. Your name is only in there once, right?"

Annie shakes her head. "I took out some tesserae," she whispers. "Not a lot, but…"

I wince. I had forgotten that the Crestas live in the poorest part of the district. Mrs. Cresta died three or four years ago, and Mr. Cresta works as an artist as well as a fisherman to support his four children, but I guess it still isn't enough.

"Oh… well, it will still be fine. Someone should volunteer for you if you are reaped," I say in reassurance as she moves up to check-in. Then Annie goes to the twelve-year-old girls section, and I head to the fourteen-year-old boys.

"Hey!" Sitka calls as I join him in the crowd. "You should totally ask out that girl!"

"Who, Annie?" I ask in surprise as I feel my ears growing warm. "She's _twelve_, Holland!"

"So?! She's in to you! It's so obvious!"

Before I have a chance to reply, the mayor comes to the stage and gives the same speech he gives every year before calling Chauncey, our elderly escort, onto the stage. Chauncey is an old man in his sixties or seventies and has been escorting in District Four since before I was born. He's slightly short for a man of his age and is on the thinner side. His sky blue hair and mustache would probably be white had he not dyed them, and his eyes are an unnatural blue-violet color, probably from colored contacts. Clothing-wise, he's dressed somewhat normally in a suit the same color as his hair with a white daisy attached near his left shoulder.

"Welcome ladies and gentlemen to the District 4 reaping of the 65th annual Hunger Games!" His voice is cheerful, yet not overenthusiastic. "My name is Chauncey Eugene Katz, and I've been escorting in District 4 for seventeen years, and for fifty years total. I am very saddened to announce this is my last year, however, as I will be retiring."

The crowd claps politely for Chauncey, along with some cheers and boos mixed in. When the crowd settles down again, Chauncey simply continues.

"Firstly, let's choose a lucky young lady," he says, reaching in to the female bowl and drawing a name. "Circe Jennings!"

Before I can find out who Circe Jennings is, someone boldly calls out, "I volunteer!" A sixteen or seventeen-year-old girl pushes her way to the front of the crowd and rushes to the stage.

Chauncey beams. "A volunteer! Excellent! What's your name, miss?"

"Mariah Manchester."

"Congratulations, Mariah!" Chauncey says, shaking her hand. "Now for the young lads!"

It seems hours have passed before Chauncey draws a name. "Nyle Degardi!"

Everyone is silent. No one is volunteering. Bronson and the other older boys are watching me. He smirks, his eyes saying something along the lines of, "Come on, I dare you. Don't be a chicken."

Meanwhile, Nyle slowly walks towards the stage, his legs shaking violently. His sixteen-year-old sister, Nala looks like she's about to cry, and the crowd is so silent, I can hear his mother begin to sob. Against my better judgment, I step forward. "Wait! I… I volunteer!"

* * *

I sit in the justice building, wondering if this really happed. Of course it did; I'm just having second thoughts.

The door opens, and my parents come in. I immediately feel guilt when I see the tears in my mother's eyes. "Oh Finn… Why?" She asks "I thought we agreed that we were only enrolling you in the training center just in case you were reaped and no one volunteered. You promised you wouldn't volunteer!"

"I'm sorry, Mom," I say, ducking my head, "but I had to." I then explain the events at the training center and why I had to volunteer for Nyle. I can see my parents begin to understand, but they still seem upset.

"I'm disappointed that you disobeyed us, especially when you are only fourteen," my dad sighs. "Yet at the same time, I can't help but be proud of you. We know you can pull this off."

I hug my parents for possibly the last time before the peacekeepers take them out.

Sitka comes in next. "Dude, I can't believe you'd actually do it!" he exclaimed.

"Yeah, well… it was the right thing to do." I say casually. For the rest of his visit, Sitka talks about how I'm going to "kick the other tributes' asses" and is still trying to talk as the peacekeepers force him to leave.

The next visitor, Annie, is a surprise. I wasn't expecting her, yet here she is.

"Hi Finnick, she says quietly, not looking me in the eyes. "That was really brave of you. I saw the way those guys looked at you, and I understand why you volunteered."

"Yeah… thanks…" I say, only because that's all that will come out.

"I brought you something," Annie says, holding out a small turtle figurine craved out of a shell. "It's not a pin, so they can't call it a weapon. It's Velcro, and will hopefully stick on your shirt. I thought it could be your token."

"Thanks Annie," I say, giving her a hug.

When the door opens for the fourth set of visitors, the peacekeeper seems to be very annoyed. "This is the last visit. Then you're leaving." He slams the door, leaving me with Nyle and Nala Degardi.

"F-Finnick?" Nyle asks timidly, as if asking permission to speak to me.

"Hey Nyle," I reply, giving a nod and a friendly smile.

"W-why did you v-volunteer for m-me? I-I'm in training t-too…."

"I know. But you don't train with plans of volunteering right?" Nyle shakes his head. "I saw how scared you were. And no one else was going to volunteer. It just seemed like the right thing to do."

Nyle considers this, and then nods. "Well, th-thanks."

"Yeah, thanks Finnick," Nala chimes in. "You're not too bad."

A compliment from an older girl. Nice. "You're not too bad yourself," I respond coolly.

"Good luck, Finnick." Nala says as the peacekeepers open the door again. Not long later, two peacekeepers take me by the arms and drag me down the hall and out the side door where the train is waiting. I know there is no turning back now. Once I board the train, I will begin the journey that will change everything forever.


	2. Chapter 2: Choice

**Author's note: Thank you so much for the positive feedback last chapter. It is very much appreciated.**

**Chapter 2: Choice**

"_Stay committed to your decisions, but stay flexible in your approach." _

_Tony Robbins, life coach, self-help author, and motivation speaker_

When I board the train, I'm greeted by a large lavender colored mop and the yapping of tiny dogs. It's only when Chauncey Eugene calls, "Penelope, come along, my sweet," and the mop trots back to him that I realize that the mop is actually one of those bigger sized Capitolite poodles with long, corded hair that I'm sure is not naturally light purple in color. Around Chauncey's feet dance a small black poodle and an even smaller cream colored poodle.

"Um… what's with the mutts?"

Chauncey looks appalled and scoops up the smallest poodle. "They're not _mutts!_ Josephine is a purebred apricot toy poodle, Stanley is a purebred black miniature poodle, and Penelope is a purebred white standard poodle. They have been purebred for generations on end!"

"She sure doesn't look white," I say, gesturing to Penelope.

Chauncey's face turns red. "That's because I had her fur dyed, lad! Don't be an idiot!"

Mariah, who has been sitting soundlessly on the couch, mutters, "It's not white anymore if you dye it."

Chauncey must be hard of hearing, because he doesn't reply. Or he realizes he doesn't have time to respond as the door of the train car opens, and our mentors come in. The first is Marissa Swan. She is the most recent victor, having won only seven years ago. Marissa has wavy chestnut brown hair with caramel colored highlights and a kind smile, but like most victors, I don't know much about her. The other victor, Mags, I know much better, as I should. She's my Grandma Ariella's cousin, and even though Grandma Ariella passed away four years ago, Mags still visits often.

Mags is about to open her mouth to speak, but is interrupted by Mariah.

"I want Marissa."

Mags frowns slightly. "Excuse me?"

"I said I want Marissa. I don't want some incompetent old victor."

Mags is far from incompetent. In fact, she has the record for mentoring the most tributes to victory out of any victor. This is because while Mags could retire from mentoring if she wanted to, she chooses her to mentor year after year, saying that it "makes her feel useful". It's her choice. I am I about to argue with Mariah, but decide against it. I want Mags for myself.

Mags remains calm, despite Mariah's rude comment. "I am not incompetent, young lady, and if you don't watch your mouth in the arena, it could get you into trouble. However, if that's the attitude you're going to have towards me, I think it is better for all involved if Marissa _is_ your mentor, if that's alright with her."

Marissa nods and leads Mariah to another car to talk to her privately. Chauncey and his poodles prance off to the dining car, leaving me alone with Mags, who wraps her arms around me in a tight hug. "It's nice to see you, Finnick," she says. "I just wish we weren't on a Capitol-bound train."

"Me too," I sigh, "but I had to volunteer." I then launch into explaining my decision yet again. I realize this isn't going to be the last time I say it.

Mags nods. "Well, you're choice has been made. Now it's just a matter of how you choose to deal with your decision. What's next for you? You're going to be younger than many of the tributes. What are you going to do?"

She looks at me, with intense green eyes. She believes I can win the games. She wants me to believe it too. And I do, or at least that's what my words say when I open my mouth. "I'm going to win."

Mags smiles. "Good. That's the kind of attitude you'll need in the arena. Confident, but not arrogant. The tributes from One and Two will not appreciate an arrogant fourteen year old. Do you understand?" I nod. "At the same time, if you want to be part of their alliance - which I recommend, at least at the beginning - you'll need to show them what you can do. What do you see as your strengths?"

"I can fish and use a trident really well," I reply. "I can handle a spear too. I can swim, and you taught me how to make hooks and tie knots. I can make traps."

Mags nods. "And your weaknesses?"

"My age," I answer automatically. "I'm not good at hand to hand, so if I can't get a weapon, I might be in trouble."

Mags nods again. "Now, take your strengths and focus on them. Remember you still have weaknesses and that you are not invincible, but don't dwell on it. That will be key to your survival. Got it?"

I nod, taking Mags's words to heart. She's seventy-two years old, and was Four's first victor. She definitely knows what she's talking about.

"Now, why don't we just relax," Mags says, putting a hand on my shoulder. "Once in the Capitol, you won't have time to ourselves for hours."

I smile slightly and settle down next to Mags on the sofa, watching the scenery cruise by. The peace doesn't last long though, because soon Chauncey comes back in with his dogs, Marissa, and Mariah, demanding that we all watch the reapings together. Mags and Marissa provide notebooks and pens for Mariah and me to take notes in. I especially pay close attention to districts One and Two, since I could potentially be in an alliance with them. The girl from District One, Merit, looks calm, yet excited. The boy, Dusk, jumps up and down and whoops, a giddy grin on his face. The girl from Two is a little intimidating, with long, curly dark hair and bright blue eyes. Her district partner, a tall, tired looking boy with medium brown hair winces slightly as she nearly crushes his hand. All four are volunteers, of course. Mariah looks bold and confident, just as she did at the actual reaping, and I look a lot braver than I sounded and felt.

Only a few other tributes stand out to me. The boy from Five is probably twelve, but he looks even younger. The girl from Six is dressed in rags and has a crazed look in her eyes. The boy from Seven looks strong, like he's spent his whole life swinging an axe. Both tributes from Ten look younger than me. They must know each other, because as soon as they boy gets to the stage, they clasp each other's hands. The girl from Twelve looks like she has a better chance than most years. She doesn't look starving, and does her best to look strong. Out of all of us, she might be the most courageous.

"Alright, now that we've finished that, you best get ready," Chauncey says, shutting off the television. "We'll be in the Capitol in approximately an hour." He then takes his poodles and relocates to a different part of the train.

Marissa and Mariah head off to the dining car to get something to get something to eat. I'm about to follow, but holds me back. "Listen, Finnick," she says softly, "you are a handsome young man. The Capitol will love you, if you let them. How flirtatious can you be?"

"Flirtatious?" I ask, confused as to why she's asking this of me.

Mags nods. "Okay. I can try," I reply and clear my throat, flashing what I hope to be a swoon-worthy smile. "Ladies, ladies, calm yourselves. There's a hundred of you and only one of me!"

The words sound foreign to me, like they aren't my own. I make a face. Mags, on the other hand, seems pleased. "Good. Just try to make it more natural."

"Why am I doing this?"

"Sponsors," Mags replies. "Trust me, the more attractive you act, the more sponsors will flock to me wanting to help you out in any way they can. It's terrible, the way they view children, but it's what keeps many victors alive."

I nod, and Mags and I go get some dinner.

* * *

The crowd of Capitolites cheers wildly, all because of the four of us, two tributes and two victors. I wave and smile and wink to various women in the crowd, and some even faint. I resist the urge to wrinkle my nose in distaste. Mariah, however, just rolls her eyes and moves on.

I spend the next few hours being prettied up by my prep team. I don't catch their names, because all three are too busy gushing about how adorable I am. They tell me they don't have to do much to "perfect" me, but it sure seems like a lot, between trimming my hair just right, waxing my eyebrows, clipping my nails, and stripping me of all "excess body hair". They then leave me in nothing but a pair of underwear.

My stylist is dressed in orange literally from head to toe. Orange spiky hair, orange eye shadow, orange lipstick, orange nail polish, and an orange suit. Even his skin is a yellow-orange color.

"Let me guess… You're favorite color is orange," I say when he comes in.

The stylist beams. "Oh, you're good! My name's Augustus! And you must be Finnick Odair!"

"No, I'm Mariah Manchester."

Augustus blinks in confusion, and at first I think he believed me, but then he laughs. "Oh good, a joker! I like tributes with a sense of humor!" He eyes me up and down. "Okay, you're not going to not like me much. You might even find this outfit humiliating, but I swear I'm doing it only for your own good!"

I'm about to ask what he's talking about, but as soon as he pulls a piece of green material out of his bag, I know exactly what he's talking about.

Less than an hour later, I'm standing outside waiting for the ceremony to start. The only thing covering my private areas is a piece of green fabric designed to look like seaweed. The material does its job, but just barely. Around my wrists and ankles are thick gold bracelets. That's it.

The white horses attached to the chariot are some of the most magnificent animals I've ever seen. I stroke their noses for a moment before noticing a bowl of sugar cubes sitting on the ground not too far away. Since I've always had a sweet tooth, I scoop up a handful and stand up again, tossing them in my mouth one by one as I look around at all the other chariots. Suddenly I feel something wet in my palm and I jump. One of the horses has craned its neck to reach my hand and eat the sugar cubes in it. I laugh. "So you like the sugar cubes too, huh?"

Mariah joins me then, with a costume just as revealing as mine, with a top that hardly covers her breasts. We hop on our chariot, ready to get the ceremony over with. I try to make conversation, but Mariah mostly ignores me, staring straight ahead. Our stylist come to give us last minute advice such as "act as though your best friends going for a ride" and "don't forgot to smile and wave and… Oh! Don't forget to wink too! The Crowd _loves_ that!"

Then the chariot pulls forward into the gleaming lights and screaming crowd. I smile, wave, wink, and flirt, just as I was told. I feed off the crowd, and I feel like the excitement I give off actually seems genuine. The crowd goes wild over all the tributes, some more than others, Mariah and I included. After riding around the circle, the chariot comes to a stop, right before the president himself.

**Author's note: And there's the second chapter. Hopefully it wasn't too boring, since I know I for one have read a lot of chariot ride scenes and have written three already so far myself. It's honestly not my favorite thing to write, but oh well. I hope you all enjoyed the chapter anyway. **

**Next Chapter: Training begins, and Finnick meets his potential alliance, in addition to a few other tributes. **


	3. Chapter 3: Impressions

**Chapter 3: Impressions**

"_You never get a second chance to make a first impression"_

_Will Rogers, actor_

After the chariot rides, Mariah, our mentors, Chauncey and his poodles, and I ride the elevator to the fourth floor of the training center. Our floor, like the rest of the Capitol, contains only the best, from velvet couches and polished mahogany tables to marble pillars and King's sized beds with satin sheets and soft, luscious pillows. It seems a little extravagant for tributes that theoretically have a four percent chance of surviving the arena, but I'm not going to complain.

Dinner too, is taken a little overboard. There is some seafood, which I'm used to, but there are also a lot of foreign foods, like juicy, tender steak and baked potatoes loaded with cheese, bacon, chives, and a creamy white substance called sour cream. I eat so much that I think I won't be hungry again until the Games start, but then the avoxes bring out dessert; cakes, pies, brownies, ice cream and many other types of sugary deliciousness. Sugary foods are a special treat back home, but I can't resist anything sweet, so I have my fill now while I can. While my taste buds love me, my stomach does not, and after dinner I collapse on one of the couches, unable to move. Marissa and Mariah head to Mariah's room, leaving Mags, Chauncey, and me in the main room.

"Alright, Finnick, sit up. We need to talk about tomorrow," says Mags as she peers down at me.

"But, Mags," I groan. "I'm full!"

Mags raises an eyebrow. "And how does that affect your ability to sit up? Honestly! You'd think I was asking you to climb a mountain!"

I laugh and ease myself into a more upright position, allowing Mags to take a seat beside me. "Now, when you saw President Snow for the first time in person, what was your impression of him?"

I think back to the opening ceremony. "He seemed… cold. He was kind of intimating, like he was about to kill off any one of us if he wanted to then and there with just a wave of his hand."

Mags nods. "That is exactly what he wants you to believe. Intimidation is his way of keeping victors and the districts in line. Making a strong, clear first impression is vital to maintaining his role as the fearsome ruler of Panem, and as a tribute, making the right first impression is just as important to you. As I said before, you need to show the other volunteer tributes confidence and prove you are worthy of being a part of their alliance, without appearing arrogant. You'll only have one chance to show the other tributes the side of you that you wish them to see. "

I nod. "Okay."

"The same goes for the Capitolites," Mags continues. "Only with them, you will need to charming and flirtatious, with the air of a heartbreaker. You have appearance on your side, Finnick, despite being only fourteen, and the more you take advantage of that, the more sponsors you'll earn."

I frown slightly. Air of a Heartbreaker? That's not me. But if Mags believes that's what the Capitol wants and it will increase my chances, then so be it. I nod again.

Mags gives me a hug. "I think that's enough information for now. Go get some rest; you're going to need it."

"Thanks, Mags," I say, smiling slightly. I then head to the bathroom to take a hot shower. I play with the many controls for a while, enjoying the fact that the water never cools. Afterwards, I head to my room, hoping for a good night's sleep before training starts in the morning.

* * *

"What do you think our allies are going to be like?" I ask Mariah. She and I are among the first tributes to arrive at training, and not knowing what else to do, I try to make conversation. Mariah, however, only scowls.

"How do you know we'll have the same allies?"

"Well, usually Four allies with Two and One, so I guess I assumed we would," I reply awkwardly.

"Don't assume simply because you're from Four you'll automatically be accepted into the career pack, Odair," Mariah sneers.

Before I can reply, a girl with long, dark blonde hair and blue eyes strolls gracefully towards us. A boy with light brown eyes who's thick, wavy hair falls slightly past his ears and is a few shades darker than the girl's trails after her.

"Are you the tributes from District Four?" the girl asked in a calm, dream-like voice.

I smile at her, "Yeah!"

The boy bursts out laughing, and his District partner looks at him in confusion. "What's so funny, Dusk?"

"This can't be District Four!" Dusk exclaims. "Look at this kid! He's a shrimp!"

The girl glares at him. "Don't be rude!" Turning to me, she adds, "I'm sorry about him."

I shrug. "It's fine. I _am _smaller than the rest of you. I'm only fourteen, after all," I say, and then add as an afterthought, "but I'm not going to let my age get in my way."

"That's a good attitude to have," the girl says, smiling. "I'm Merit Breckenridge, by the way, and this is Dusk Lowry. We're from District One."

"I'm Finnick Odair."

"Nice to meet you," Merit says, turning to Mariah. "And you?"

"Mariah Manchester."

"One! Four! Enough introducing yourselves by names that will not matter and listen!"

The four of us turn our heads, where a tall girl struts towards us. Her unruly dark hair swings back and forth in her thick ponytail, and her grey eyes are wild, cold, and calculating, and if she's plotting how to pick each of us off, one by one. A boy with brown hair walks a few paces behind her with his head down, as if he is ashamed to been seen with her.

"You must be the tributes from Two," Merit says. "I'm sorry; I don't remember your names."

"Antigone Forte. But who cares? All you need to know is that I will be the leader of the Career alliance this year. Any objections?"

The gleam in her eyes tell me that anyone who objects will be first on Antigone's kill list. Everyone else seems to take the hint, too. The other guys shrug, while Mariah stays quiet, shaking her head. "Alright," Merit says for all of us. "That's fine."

"It better be fine," Antigone snarls.

"I'm not lying. I have no interest in leading any alliance," Merit replies before turning to the boy from Two. "What's your name?"

"Roman Itasca," the boy mutters quietly.

Before Merit can reply, Atala, the head trainer, blows a whistle to get to get our attention. She then explains the stations and the rules to us before setting us free to train.

"Alright, volunteers," Antigone sneers. "Let's see what you all can do."

The six of us begin to wander around the training center, attempting a variety of weapons. Dusk prefers a mace, and seems to be convinced that he will be able to obtain a one in the arena. He tries the other weapons a few times each, but then stands back to watch. Merit is an archer, and can hit the target straight on the bull's-eye the majority of her attempts. Besides accuracy, she can reload and fire again faster than anyone I've ever seen. Roman has some skill with spears, and is decent in hand-to-hand. Antigone is frighteningly accurate with daggers, and is just as speedy with them as Merit is with her bow. She can also manage a sword, but daggers are definitely her strong suit. Mariah does the best with small throwing hatchets.

"I thought you were from Four, not Seven!" Dusk says with a laugh. Apparently he's the only one who finds himself funny. "Shouldn't you be using fishing gear instead?"

Mariah shrugs. "I don't fish. I like hatchets."

Personally, I stay away from my weapon of choice, the tridents. When it came to both my training and fishing, I have been handy with a trident since I was young, but I don't want my competitors knowing that. Not yet. So, I show off my skills with a spear. My throwing isn't quite as good as it normally is when using Four's spears or tridents, but it's still career-worthy, I think. Mariah looks indifferent and Merit and Dusk look slightly impressed. Roman gaze is on the floor, and Antigone's expression is unreadable.

By the time we're almost done experimenting with all they weapons we're interested in, lunch is ready. The six of us huddle together at a single table. Looking around, I see a few tributes in pairs, but most tributes eat alone. Not surprisingly, we are the largest group by far.

After lunch, we decide to split up and learn as much as we can about the other tributes. Or more accurately, Antigone decides for us. I head over to the fire-starting station, remembering the bonfires I used to have on the beach with my family and friends. I never learned how to build on myself, and now I wish I had. Already piling up logs in two separate hearths are two girls. One is about my age or a little older, with light brown hair streaked with blonde and honey brown eyes. The other seems a few years older, with dark hair and bright blue eyes.

"Hi!" the first girl says bubbly as I kneel down and gather my logs. "I'm Raisin, from Eleven, and this is Ivy, from Twelve! Who are you?"

"Finnick Odair, District Four," I say and then pause. "Did you say Raisin?"

Raisin grins. "Yep! My real name is Rayanne, but my little brother couldn't say Rayanne when he was little, so he said Raisin instead. It stuck."

I laugh. "Oh, okay. Mind if I join you?"

"Not at all," says the other girl, Ivy.

I talk to the girls as I build my fire. Both are friendly and interesting to talk to, and I have a feeling they would be inseparably best friends if they had grown up in the same district. But unfortunately, this is the Hunger Games. One of them has to die, preferable both if I want to go home. The two are surprisingly similar, both cheerful and talkative. Raisin seems to be more bubbly and energetic, though, while Ivy is calm and considerate.

After the fire-making station, I move on to snares, where the small boy from five is working. As soon as he sees me, he sloppily finishes his project and moves away from me as soon as he can. I shrug, and focus on showing the trainer what I already know. When I'm almost finished, Merit appears on my right.

"Wow, Finnick! You're really good at this!"

I smile slightly. "Thanks," I reply, tying the final knot. "There. All finished."

"That's really quite amazing! Mind if I show the other?"

I shake my head. "I guess not." Merit seeks out the other careers, showing each one my snare. I'm not sure why she's doing this or if she's trying to help me or hurt me. It seems to help, whether that was her goal or not.

"Huh," Antigone grunts as she examines my snare. "I admit, I didn't think you'd be very useful when I first saw you, little guppy, but I think you may prove me wrong."

I do my best to ignore the "little guppy" nickname and focus on the rest of Antigone's words. I don't want to be just a tool for her to use in the games, a tool she'd just dispose of once she grew tired of me. But for now, a tool is certainly better than being shark bait right from the start. All in all, I consider today a success first day of training.

**Author's note: Sorry for the long delay. School's keeping me way too busy. I'm only posting now because I have a snow day. In April. That we're probably going to have to make up in June. *sigh* I'd love to be in District Four right now… Anyone else? :)**

**Next Chapter: A little more training, training scores, a chat with Four's second mentor, Marissa, and possibly interviews.**


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